Minor Dialogues, Together With the Dialogue on Clemency
brother, and leaving thee all the rest in securitie and safetie.”—Lodge.
[4] See “On Benefits,” v. 16.
[5] Scipio Africanus minor, the son of Paulus Aemilius.
[6] Marcellus. See “Virgil’s well-known lines, Aen. VI., 869, _sqq_.,
and “Consolatio ad Marciam,” 2.
[7] G. Caesar, d. at Limyra, a.d. 4.
[8] Lucius Caesar, d. at Marseilles, A.D. 2.
[9] Drusus died by a fall from his horse, B.C. 9. “A monument was
erected in his honour at Moguntiacum (Mayence), and games and
military spectacles were exhibited there on the anniversary of his
death. An altar had already been raised in his honour on the banks
of the Lippe.” Tac. Ann. ii. 7. “The soldiers began now to regard
themselves as a distinct people, with rites and heroes of their
own. Augustus required them to surrender the body of their beloved
chief as a matter of discipline.” Merivale, ch. 36.
[10] _Pulvinaria_. See note, ch. xvii.
[11] _Pulvinaria_. This word properly means “a couch made of cushions,
and spread over with a splendid covering, for the gods or persons
who received divine honours.”
[12] Merivale, following Suetonius and Dion Cassius, says: “He
declared that if any man dared to mourn for his sister’s death, he
should be punished, for she had become a goddess: if any one ventured
to rejoice at her deification, he should be punished also, for she
was dead.” The passage in the text, he remarks, gives a less
extravagant turn to the story.
{380}
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE DIALOGUE OF L. ANNAEUS SENECA, ADDRESSED TO
NERO CAESAR.
ON CLEMENCY.
I. I have determined to write a book upon clemency, Nero Caesar,
in order that I may as it were serve as a mirror to you, and let
you see yourself arriving at the greatest of all pleasures. For
although the true enjoyment of good deeds consists in the performance
of them, and virtues have no adequate reward beyond themselves,
still it is worth your while to consider and investigate a good
conscience from every point of view, and afterwards to cast your
eyes upon this enormous mass of mankind— quarrelsome, factious, and
passionate as they are; likely, if they could throw off the yoke
of your government, to take pleasure alike in the ruin of themselves
and of one another —and thus to commune with yourself:—“Have I of
all mankind been chosen and thought fit to perform the office of a
god upon earth? I am the arbiter of life and death to mankind: it
rests with me to decide what lot and position in life each man
possesses: fortune makes use of my mouth to announce what she bestows
on each man: cities and nations are moved to joy by my words: no
region {381} anywhere can flourish without my favour and good will:
all these thousands of swords now restrained by my authority, would
be drawn at a sign from me: it rests with me to decide which tribes
shall be utterly exterminated, which shall be moved into other
lands, which shall receive and which shall be deprived of liberty,
what kings shall be reduced to slavery and whose heads shall be
crowned, what cities shall be destroyed and what new ones shall be
founded. In this position of enormous power I am not tempted to
punish men unjustly by anger, by youthful impulse, by the recklessness
and insolence of men, which often overcomes the patience even of
the best regulated minds, not even that terrible vanity, so common
among great sovereigns, of displaying my power by inspiring terror.
My sword is sheathed, nay, fixed in its sheath: I am sparing of the
blood even of the lowest of my subjects: a man who has nothing else
to recommend him, will nevertheless find favour in my eyes because
he is a man. I keep harshness concealed, but I have clemency always
at hand: I watch myself as carefully as though I had to give an
account of my actions to those laws which I have brought out of
darkness and neglect into the light of day. I have been moved to
compassion by the youth of one culprit, and the age of another: I
have spared one man because of his great place, another on account
of his insignificance: when I could find no reason for showing
mercy, I have had mercy upon myself. I am prepared this day, should
the gods demand it, to render to them an account of the human race.”
You, Caesar, can boldly say that everything which has come into
your charge has been kept safe, and that the state has neither
openly nor secretly suffered any loss at your hands. You have coveted
a glory which is most rare, and which has been obtained by no emperor
before you, that of innocence. Your remarkable goodness is not
thrown away, nor is it ungratefully or spitefully undervalued. Men
feel {382} gratitude towards you: no one person ever was so dear
to another as you are to the people of Rome, whose great and enduring
benefit you are. You have, however, taken upon yourself a mighty
burden: no one any longer speaks of the good times of the late
Emperor Augustus, or the first years of the reign of Tiberius, or
proposes for your imitation any model outside yourself: yours is a
pattern reign. This would have been difficult had your goodness of
heart not been innate, but merely adopted for a time; for no one
can wear a mask for long, and fictitious qualities soon give place
to true ones. Those which are founded upon truth, and which, so to
speak, grow out of a solid basis, only become greater and better
as time goes on. The Roman people were in a state of great hazard
as long as it was uncertain how your generous[1] disposition would
turn out; now, however, the prayers of the community are sure of
an answer, for there is no fear that you should suddenly forget
your own character. Indeed, excess of happiness makes men greedy,
and our desires are never so moderate as to be bounded by what they
have obtained: great successes become the stepping-stones to greater
ones, and those who have obtained more than they hoped, entertain
even more extravagant hopes than before; yet by all your countrymen
we hear it admitted that they are now happy, and moreover, that
nothing can be added to the blessings that they enjoy, except that
they should be eternal. Many circumstances force this admission
from them, although it is the one which men are least willing to
make: we enjoy a profound and prosperous peace, the power of the
law has been openly asserted in the sight of all men, and raised
beyond the reach of any violent interference: the form of our
government is so happy, as to contain all the essentials of liberty
except the power of destroying itself. It is {383} nevertheless
your clemency which is most especially admired by the high and low
alike: every man enjoys or hopes to enjoy the other blessings of
your rule according to the measure of his own personal good fortune,
whereas from your clemency all hope alike: no one has so much
confidence in his own innocence, as not to feel glad that in your
presence stands a clemency which is ready to make allowance for
human errors.
II. I know, however, that there are some who imagine that clemency
only saves the life of every villain, because clemency is useless
except after conviction, and alone of all the virtues has no function
among the innocent. But in the first place, although a physician
is only useful to the sick, yet he is held in honour among the
healthy also; and so clemency, though she be invoked by those who
deserve punishment, is respected by innocent people as well. Next,
she can exist also in the person of the innocent, because sometimes
misfortune takes the place of crime; indeed, clemency not only
succours the innocent, but often the virtuous, since in the course
of time it happens that men are punished for actions which deserve
praise. Besides this, there is a large part of mankind which might
return to virtue if the hope of pardon were not denied them. Yet
it is not right to pardon indiscriminately; for when no distinction
is made between good and bad men, disorder follows, and all vices
break forth; we must therefore take care to distinguish those
characters which admit of reform from those which are hopelessly
depraved. Neither ought we to show an indiscriminate and general,
nor yet an exclusive clemency; for to pardon every one is as great
cruelty as to pardon none; we must take a middle course; but as it
is difficult to find the true mean, let us be careful, if we depart
from it, to do so upon the side of humanity.
III. But these matters will be treated of better in their own place.
I will now divide this whole subject into {384} three parts. The
first will be of gentleness of temper:[2] the second will be that
which explains the nature and disposition of clemency; for since
there are certain vices which have the semblance of virtue, they
cannot be separated unless you stamp upon them the marks which
distinguish them from one another: in the third place we shall
inquire how the mind may be led to practise this virtue, how it may
strengthen it, and by habit make it its own.
That clemency, which is the most humane of virtues, is that which
best befits a man, is necessarily an axiom, not only among our own
sect, which regards man as a social animal, born for the good of
the whole community, but even among those philosophers who give him
up entirely to pleasure, and whose words and actions have no other
aim than their own personal advantage. If man, as they argue, seeks
for quiet and repose, what virtue is there which is more agreeable
to his nature than clemency, which loves peace and restrains him
from violence? Now clemency becomes no one more than a king or a
prince; for great power is glorious and admirable only when it is
beneficent; since to be powerful only for mischief is the power of
a pestilence. That man’s greatness alone rests upon a secure
foundation, whom all men know to be as much on their side as he is
above them, of whose watchful care for the safety of each and all
of them they receive daily proofs, at whose approach they do not
fly in terror, as though some evil and dangerous animal had sprung
out from its den, but flock to him as they would to the bright and
health-giving sunshine. They are perfectly ready to fling themselves
upon the swords of conspirators in his defence, to offer their
bodies if his only path to safety must be formed of corpses: they
protect his sleep by nightly watches, they {385} surround him and
defend him on every side, and expose themselves to the dangers which
menace him. It is not without good reason that nations and cities
thus agree in sacrificing their lives and property for the defence
and the love of their king whenever their leader’s safety demands
it; men do not hold themselves cheap, nor are they insane when so
many thousands are put to the sword for the sake of one man, and
when by so many deaths they save the life of one man alone, who not
unfrequently is old and feeble. Just as the entire body is commanded
by the mind, and although the body be so much larger and more
beautiful while the mind is impalpable and hidden, and we are not
certain as to where it is concealed, yet the hands, feet, and eyes
work for it, the skin protects it; at its bidding we either lie
still or move restlessly about; when it gives the word, if it be
an avaricious master, we scour the sea in search of gain, or if it
be ambitious we straightway place our right hand in the flames like
Mucius, or leap into the pit like Curtius, so likewise this enormous
multitude which surrounds one man is directed by his will, is guided
by his intellect, and would break and hurl itself into ruin by its
own strength, if it were not upheld by his wisdom.
IV. Men therefore love their own safety, when they draw up vast
legions in battle on behalf of one man, when they rush to the front,
and expose their breasts to wounds, for fear that their leader’s